What for the Blood God?

(credit to Josh for the idea)


The war god paced in front of his assembled worshippers. He put one battle-scarred hand over his left ear and shouted, "I can't hear you!" The devout warriors redoubled their chant: "Blood for the Blood God!"
Khorne yelled "Not you lot!" but they didn't hear him. He lowered his head and growled, "Look, Tzeentch, I'm bringing the cards, you're bringing the food. Got it? The chips I'm bringing are for keeping score, the chips you're bringing are for eating. And nothing fancy! What? Speak up! Liver patties? Okay, I guess. What? Look, I can't hear, let me deal with my minions and I'll get back to you."
He turned to face his worshippers, and they roared in exultation: "Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!" Khorne raised his axe and they cheered. The war god soaked up their adulation absentmindedly for a few minutes, until suddenly he looked up and cocked an eyebrow. "What was that? What was that you said?" He held out his hands to quiet the legion, then pointed at their leader. "You! Chaos General What's-your-name. What was that you said?"
The black-armored champion stepped forth. "May it please you, my lord, I was saying 'May your enemies be ground--' "
"No, no, before that."
"Er...something about "Your axe strikes as lightning', I think? I didn't write it."
"No, before that. Blood for the Blood God, and...?"
The Chaos General smiled in relief. "Ah, yes. Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"
The legions behind him took up the battle cry: "Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne! Blood for the--"
Khorne waved angrily. "That's not right."
Dead silence descended.
Korne patted his armor. "I have a list, I know I do, I put it...no, not there...ah!" He produced a sheet of parchment, made from the skin of a fel beast and inscribed with cursed ink. "Here we are. I made a list, two items, just two, mind you, and you've got one of them wrong, haven't you? Item the first, blood for the Blood God, right, even a gang of drunken berserkers could hardly mess that up. Item the second, cleaning supplies for the Skull Throne. Look." He handed the parchment to the general. "Cleaning supplies. Not skulls."
The general looked at the paper, then handed it without comment to his second in command, an up-and-coming type who he cordially detested. The latter read it and muttered, "Er, but it does say skulls."
The war god roared, "What?"
The warrior said hastily, "Well, yes, but I see what happened, you made this rune with a bit of a hook, see, this stroke here, and if you'd made it properly, with a straight stroke, then it would have arrgh!" He fell in two halves, cleft by Khorne's axe.
The general muttered, "Well, that was a straight stroke."

At a glance

Mack accelerated as soon as the light turned green and glanced side to side. Right, the Japanese restaurant has a banner up. Center, something white in the median, a paper bag--

Skull--

and on the left, on the other side of the road, a girl jogging. He looked back at the white thing. Looking directly at it, it looked like a crumpled paper bag, but he could still see the dark circles. He looked away, watching the spot from the corner of his eye. It was a skull, maybe human, humanoid at least, placed upright, facing east. There was something painted or worked into the brow, and half a dozen dark flat things, stones or metal, arranged in a circle around it. That was all he could see before he drove past. He didn't know what it was, whether it was a warning or boundary marker or offering or what. He kept going.

Knights charge

     Berenger rode out in front of the company of knights and pointed his sword east. "On that road lies Terebon the fair, and beyond her bridge are Count Raimond's troops, marching to her relief. And there," he he stabbed westward, "are our enemy, five and twenty thousand, who think tonight to despoil our city. And between them we stand, three hundred knights--and God with us!"

     "God with us!"

     Berenger continued, "Woe unto those who fight against Him, for they shall fly like smoke before the wind when He gives the word to scatter them. Not to us, not to us, O Lord, but to Your name be glory!"

     "To God the glory!"

     The knights cast their cloaks to the ground, couch their lances and advance at a trot. Their banner lifts and snaps in the breeze.  

Grog

Grog was a dwarven warrior, hard as stone and very nearly as smart as his wardog, Dog. Unless prompted, his vocabulary consisted of five words: Grog, Dog, drink, gold, and orc.

Grog led the way into the cellar. He spotted a sword lying on the floor. He picked it up, decided it wasn't interesting, and tossed it back over his shoulder. 

Something clanged behind him. He spun around, axe at the ready. There was a sword on the floor. He picked it up, decided it wasn't interesting, and tossed it back over his shoulder. 

Something clanged behind him. He spun around, axe at the ready. There was a sword on the floor. He picked it up, decided it wasn't interesting...and the mage hastily said, "Grog, mind if I take a look at that sword?" 

Meeting the elf

In the two seconds of internal debate, he'd driven past whoever it was. He pulled onto the gravel shoulder, rolled down the passenger window, and waited for the walker to come up to the car. The rain was coming down now, and it was hard to see; he still couldn't decide whether it was a man or a woman.

Meeting the elf

Mack would never have known elves were real if he hadn't seen her in the rain.

It had been a sunny October day until a cold front came through. Now, as Mack got into his car to head home, the afternoon's cool mist was turning into rain. He pulled out of the parking lot onto Diamond Springs, turned left at the light onto Northampton, and saw someone trudging along beside the road. The walker was slim, wearing jeans, a denim jacket, and a ball cap.

I wonder if that's a man or a woman.

You should give them a ride.

If it's a girl, she'll probably turn me down, afraid of getting raped.

You need to pull over and try, at least.

Silly Sheep

The sheep lived on The Hill, which looked something like your nose; and over there was That Hill, which looked rather like your knees. In between was a valley with a Fence.

The grass on That side of the Fence was different, because it was on That side. Because it was different, the sheep--who weren't very bright--thought it must be better. But the Fence was in the way. So the sheep decided to get over the Fence.

The first sheep ambled down The Hill and across the valley. He bumped into the Fence. Then he stopped. He didn't know what to do next. He stood there with his head against the Fence.

The second sheep marched down The Hill. When he got close to the Fence, he put down his head and charged! He ran straight into the Fence. He bounced back one step. He took one step sideways. He fell over.

The third sheep decided to jump over the Fence. He jumped up and down. Sheep don't jump well. He kept jumping up and down. Not very far up, and not very far down.

The fourth sheep had an idea. If two other sheep stood together, he could stand on top of them. That way he would be high enough to jump over the Fence. The fifth sheep and sixth sheep thought this was a good idea. They went to the Fence. Sheep Four said "Stand together so I can get up." Sheep Five said, "No, I will get up." Sheep Six said "Only the one who climbs up can get over the Fence. That should be me." Sheep Four said, "But it was my idea!" So they stood at the Fence and argued.

The seventh sheep saw the third sheep. He jumped. He almost got over the Fence. He was a good jumper, for a sheep. He decided to go play basketball.